Case No 1
by LoveBugOC
Summary: He doesn't love her. No. He could never love her. Nor can she save everyone the way she thinks she can, he's sure of that.


Hai everyone! It's been a while huh? Let's just say that school is very demanding of my time… Anyway, I found this on my computer today and I thought I post it since I haven't posted in a while! I'm not quite sure how I feel about it, but oh well. I hope you enjoy it anyway, so let me know what you think

_**Case No. 1**_

_He doesn't love her. No. He could never love her. Nor can she save everyone the way she thinks she can, he's sure of that._

X

Of all the people in the _world_ they decide to put on his 'case', of course it has to be _her_. Her, and her brilliant mind and her kind heart and her goddamn courage and bravery and fucking BULLSHIT.  
>He tries to tell them where they can stuff their little 'rehabilitation counseling' trick the second he finds out who is in charge of him, but they're goddamn sadists and so they push and push and push the issue until he agrees to try it. To humor them. Because really, what's the worst that could happen? Besides, he's always been so very great at annoying the mudblood out of her-so she should begging for a prisoner exchange in days.<p>

X

She's wearing a pants-suit the first visit. Her hair is pinned up in a neat bun-although how she manages to tame the birds nest is beyond him. Her makeup is smooth and natural and barely there-yet sophisticated. Too sophisticated.  
>Compared to her, in his white and black stripped jumpsuit and his shaggy, greasy, dirty hair and his even dirtier skin, he looks...well, he looks much like a bum. He hardly acknowledges her when she walks in, continuing to stare down at the groove in the table he's sitting at. The door closes behind her, leaving them alone and she seems unfazed as she walks forward and places her briefcase on the table across from him. It makes a clicking noise as she opens it and the ruffling of the pages inside seem to echo around the room. Taunting him. Egging him on.<br>"Malfoy."  
>"Granger."<br>She takes a deep breath then, before speaking. "I'm here because-"  
>"Because you're lucky enough to have been assigned my case. Who better to deal with the big bad death eater than the world's smartest, most <em>caring<em> war hero?" he replies, bitterness dripping in his tone, especially in the way that he says 'caring'.  
>"Right, well-"<br>"I'm gonna do you a favour Granger, because quite frankly I don't want to be here anymore than you do. I'm not going to talk to you. I'm not going to just open up and let you read me like one of your precious books. So you should just turn around and leave right now."  
>Instead of doing as he tells her to, she sits in the chair across from him. "You should know that I don't give up something once I've started it."<br>"Then you're gonna be waiting a long time to finish it," he drawls.  
>"Well then it's lucky for me that I get paid whether you talk to me or not, isn't it," she challenges.<br>He scowls, rolling his eyes as he leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. "Yeah. Must be nice."

X

She comes every day. And every day she sits across from him in silence, her nose buried in a book while he stares at the table separating them. An hour later, after neither of them have spoken and their time is up, she packs up her briefcase and leaves him alone once more.  
>Alone with himself.<br>Alone with his thoughts.  
>Alone with his demons.<br>And sometimes, only sometimes, he wishes she would stay longer.

X

On the 9th day he speaks, his voice dripping with the distain and sarcasm of his youth. (He is still young, only 21, but he feels much MUCH older).  
>"You're not fooling anyone you know."<br>She looks up from the pages of her latest book-the woman seems to go through a novel a day. Her eyes are narrow with confusion as she closes the book and places it on the table next to her briefcase. "What?"  
>"Those clothes. That hair. You're trying to look more sophisticated than you are-than you feel. You don't like being the world's hero because you're scared of what it makes you think about and so you hide behind you perfect hair and your suits, to separate yourself from the image that everyone around you has of you." He's looking at her now. Watching the way her eyebrows come together and her nose scrunches in even more confusion. He can practically read her thoughts-how does he know that? And then she sort of smirks-only sort of-and she leans forward, folding her arms over the top of the table.<br>"Isn't that what you're doing?" she counters. "Hiding behind your bad boy, I don't give a shit image to cover up the fact that you're still just a scared little boy? You're not fooling anyone either."  
>"You don't know anything about me Granger."<br>"Nor you, about me."  
>He smirks. "Oh you'd be surprised Princess."<br>"Really? Like what?"  
>For a moment it's like they're 15 years old again, challenging one another and testing one another. He almost laughs at the image of his younger looking self with her younger and less mature self as they spit insults back and forth. Almost.<br>"Like the fact that in all of the days you've come here, you've always worn long-sleeved shirts. You're afraid to show off your arm-now whether it's because you're afraid of how I'll react, or because you're afraid to catch a glimpse of it yourself, I haven't quite figured it out yet."  
>She tugs at her sleeves, proving his point.<br>"You bury yourself between the pages of those books so that you can pretend to be anywhere but in here, because unless we're talking you refuse to look around."  
>Her gaze doesn't leave his even for a second, again proving his point.<br>"And the reason you took this job is because you think you can save people. You think that if you try hard enough that you can save anybody, without realizing that some people just can't be saved."  
>"You can be saved Malfoy," she responds softly.<br>"Yeah? How? How exactly do you plan to 'save' me Granger?"  
>"All you have to do is tell me the truth and I can have you out of here in less than a week."<br>"What truth would that be?"  
>"That you didn't do what they say you did. That you were strung along because you were a child. That-"<br>"You don't know what you're talking about," he growls, tearing his gaze away from her. "Besides, I believe our time for today is up."

X

"When was the last time you ate?" She asks him the following week.  
>He rolls his eyes. "Two hours ago. Give or take-we go through this everyday Granger."<br>"Well, you're looking a bit thin."  
>"Am I? Thanks for noticing. Although clearly you didn't notice the lack of nutrition around here."<br>"There's no need to get snippy." She sits across from him, following her usual routine before sitting back and opening her book.  
>He looks at her, half amused by how at ease she looks, and half uneasy. Her hair is down today, styled into soft curls rather than the messy ones of her youth. (He almost prefers those untidy curls). And she, unlike him he's sure, looks healthy. Except for the bags under her eyes-it seems as though she hasn't had a decent good night's sleep in months.<br>He notices the cover of her book-or rather the lack there of. Because there is no cover, it's just basic black. It's a different book from the other day. "What's it about? Your book…"  
>"My-oh...um, just.. It's a romance novel," she replies casually.<br>"Romance? Didn't peg you as the romance novel type Granger, I have to say," he smirks.  
>"Oh? Why's that?"<br>"Every book you ever had at Hogwarts was something knowledgeable."  
>Neither of them comment on how he would know that.<br>"So what's it about?" he asks again.  
>"What's with all the questions?"<br>"I'm bored, Granger. There's not a whole lot of stuff to do around here, in case you haven't noticed."  
>"Right.. It's about a couple who fall in love and get married. Three years into their marriage she gets arrested for a crime she says she didn't commit. The husband believes her without a doubt and he promises to go to the end of the earth to prove her innocence. It's sort of a romantic-mystery-thriller. Personally I like the love aspect of it."<br>"Of course you do. Is Weasley not enough for you?" he teases.  
>"Don't get snarky with me Malfoy."<br>"It sounds interesting. I wouldn't read it, personally, but...it sounds interesting," he admits.  
>"It is."<br>They fall into a comfortable silence then. She goes back to reading her book while he continues to stare at her from across the table.

X

She brings him a book their next visit. Ironically enough-or not ironically at all-it's a murder mystery. The author is a muggle, and at first he looks at it uncertainly before realizing that it's the nicest gesture he's had in years.  
>She takes it when she leaves because he's not allowed any personal items, but promises to bring it when she returns. And he finds himself rather anxious for her return.<p>

X

He notices the silver band around her ring finger on her left hand as she hands him the book. He feels a twinge in his stomach and tightness in his chest. It's mocking him.  
>She sits down across from him, pulling out her own book and leaning back in her chair.<br>"Weasley finally proposed, did he?" he asks suddenly.  
>"What? Oh...yeah. Last night." She looks down at her hand, smiling fondly in spite of herself.<br>"Congratulations."  
>"Thanks."<br>She smiles at him, and his lips turn up into a smile as well. The only difference is that he isn't sure he really means it.

X

Every time he sees that damn ring his chest gets tight and his stomach flips. He chalks it up to the fact that she's moving on with her life, while he stays the same. He's stuck here for the rest of his life (unless he were to give in and 'talk' to her). She's going to get married and start a family and have a long, happy life. And he won't.  
>So no, it's not because he fancies her. Not that he fancies her, no. He's fond of her, sure-he's spent an hour of his day, every day with her for the last three months. So of course he's fond of her, a bit. You know, in the way that a person is fond of their friend-not that she's technically his friend. (Although she's the only friend-like figure he's got nowadays). He's fond of her. But he's not in love with her. Nor is he jealous.<br>There's just absolutely no way.

X

She's wearing a t-shirt, he notices, as she walks into the room. Rather than her pants-suits, she's wearing a pair of those skinny jeans the girls love so much and a white t-shirt with a picture of the Eiffel Tower on the front. Her hair is...surprisingly messy. He likes it. He finds that he most definately prefers this laid-back Granger to the sophisticated Granger from before.  
>She smiles at him as she hands him his book-are her teeth whiter? He finds himself staring, watching as she sits down in her chair with her own book.<br>"You look different," he notes.  
>"Oh, yeah, I just...I dunno, I threw it together this morning," she shrugs.<br>"You look good."  
>"Thanks…"<br>Is that a blush creeping up her cheeks, or is it hot in here? No, no it's definately not hot in here-in fact most days it's almost freezing within these four walls. She tucks her hair behind her ear, casting her gaze down to her book.  
>He catches a glimpse of her arm, the soft (looking), smooth, creamy whiteness marred by ugly red scars in the shape of that...disgusting, degrading, dehumanizing word.<br>Mudblood.  
>He thinks about all the times he'd called her that. He thinks about all the times he had insulted her because of her blood; something she ultimately had no control over. And he can practically see the pained, saddened expression on her soft, delicate features. He was harsh, he knows that. Very harsh.<br>He doesn't think he's ever felt this much guilt before-except, perhaps, for the war.  
>"I'm sorry."<br>She looks at him, puzzled. "For what?"  
>"Everything. I…I was awful to you during school. I never should've treated you like that," he replies softly.<br>She blinks, staring at him. "So...why did you?"  
>"It was the only way I knew how to react around people like...around you. I grew up my whole life believing everything my parents told me. Trusting them. And then…"<br>"Then...what?" she asks curiously.  
>"Things changed. I realized they were wrong about everything. Your blood wasn't...isn't any different than mine."<br>They stare at each other for a moment, silently. Grey eyes bore into brown eyes and he sees...he sees forgiveness. Compassion. Sympathy. And something else, something he can't quite explain. Something he isn't sure he wants to explain.  
>He clears his throat before casting his gaze down to the book in his hands.<br>"Read up, you've only got 45 minutes left," she says softly.  
>He nods, refusing to look at her. Although he doesn't read. He can't read. Because he's far too busy thinking about the damn (beautiful and sensual) woman across from him. Because he's far too busy thinking about the way her eyes seem to smile like her lips, despite being in a god-awful place like this, and the way her eyebrows crease together in concentration and the way she bites her lip when she's confused and plays with her hands when she's nervous. Because he hates the way he notices these things.<br>He hates, even more, the way she makes him feel. Happy-or at the very least content, when she walks through that door. (Hopeful). Sad (bitter), when she leaves. And just plain lonely every other minute of the day. He misses her. Because before she started coming, he didn't have anyone to talk to-he didn't even possess the option. Before her, he didn't have…he didn't have anything. He's come to look forward to her visits. Excited almost. They don't talk a whole lot, but when they do it's just like old times. They're no longer enemies, of course, but they aren't necessarily friends either. They're like something in between. Something he can't quite put his finger on.  
>She's... Well, she's pretty much the only thing keeping him from going insane. She's his life raft. She's his only remaining tie to the world outside of his living hell.<p>

Within almost no time at all, their hour is up and she's packing her things to leave. He watches her from his seat, his arms crossed over his chest. "You don't really have to go, you know."  
>She looks up at him, surprised. "What do you mean?"<br>"I mean...it's not like you _have_ to go, right?"  
>"Well, not exactly…" she murmurs.<br>"Great! So then you can stay-and I can read some more," he responds hopefully.  
>She frowns. "I can't today. Ron's taking me out for dinner."<br>He feels that tightness in his chest and the summersaults in his stomach. He clenches his fists, and a muscle works in his jaw as he nods stiffly.  
>"Tomorrow?"<br>"Sure, yeah, whatever," he mutters indifferently.  
>"Okay, it's a date," she smiles, seemingly oblivious to the bitterness in his tone.<p>

X

Surely he's crazy. Surely he's completely insane. Surely there's something gravely wrong with him. It can't be true. He can't be...in love. With her. Of all people.  
>She's so bloody perfect, and he's so not. (He wishes he was).<br>She's kind and warm and friendly, where he's mean and cold and harsh. (He wishes he could learn from her).  
>She's determined (why else would she continue to visit him), where he's given up. (He wishes he could believe in himself even just half as much as she believes in everyone around her).<br>And yet still, he wants to crawl into her heart and live there. And he wishes it was _his_ ring around her finger and not Weasley's.  
>Is it even possible, to fall in love with someone you used to hate with every fiber of your being? Is it even possible to do such a thing within the confines of a prison cell?<p>

He makes up his mind an hour before her scheduled visit. He's going to demand that he have a new...person. He's going to agree to tell them whatever they want to hear, just as long as he gets a new person. Because he can't take this. He can't sit across from her everyday knowing she's with someone else. Knowing that she belongs with someone else. Knowing that he's the exact opposite of what she deserves to have.  
>But then she walks in. And her hair is tousled and drenched in rain water and her eyes are red and puffy and there's black streaks down her cheeks from her mascara and for a moment he isn't sure if it's from the rain or not. And then she looks at him, and her eyes are wet and they're...incredibly sad.<br>He looks concerned for her as she pulls out her chair, slides his book across the table and sits down, staring into her lap.  
>"What's wrong?"<br>She shakes her head, sniffing loudly. Her shoulders shake slightly and she pinches the bridge of her nose with her left hand.  
>The ring is missing.<br>His blood is boiling suddenly, and his face is hot. He's clenching his fists in his lap and he'd like nothing more than to beat the Weasel to a pulp for making her cry. "What'd he do?" His voice comes out like a growl. Like he's trying desperately to hold in his anger.  
>She shakes her head again.<br>"Granger. Talk to me," he demands.  
>"Talk to you? Talk to <em>you<em>? You won't talk to _me_, so why should I talk to you?" She snaps at him, though his tone holds little conviction. Just sadness. "He left me. He left me for Lavender."  
>He raises his eyebrows. "That cow?"<br>"He just...decided this morning that he didn't want to be with me. That he wanted to be with her instead," she whispers, avoiding his gaze.  
>"That's...that's low, even for a Weasley."<br>"I had my whole life planned out with him. I had everything...figured out and he ruined it. How could he ruin it?"  
>Draco scoffs, rolling his eyes. "He's an idiot Granger. He doesn't know how lucky he is to have you. He's never known. He's too blind to see the amazing creature that is Hermione Granger standing in front of him."<br>She smirks sadly, shaking her eyes as she sniffs back tears. "You don't mean that…"  
>"Of course I do. You're amazing Granger. You come here every day, knowing I'm not going to tell you anything. You're intelligent, and witty and...you're beautiful Granger," he admits.<br>"You think so?"  
>"Absolutely."<br>The blush is back, creeping onto her cheeks quickly as she pulls out her own book and flips it open to her page. "Thanks Draco."  
>He nearly faints at the sound of his name-his first name-on her lips.<p>

And he never does demand for a new person.

X

"Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if you had made different decisions? If you had chosen a different path?" She asks one day, looking up from her book.  
>"All the time. You?"<br>She nods slightly, closing her book and placing in the table. He keeps his open in his lap, but his gaze is trained on her. "Sometimes I wonder what life would be like without magic. Like if I didn't know that I was a witch, or if my parents had refused to let me study at Hogwarts. Everything would've been entirely different. Good or bad though, I wouldn't trade this world for anything," she admits softly.  
>"Well, magic <em>is<em> pretty awesome."  
>She giggles-truly giggles and it brings a smile to his face. A smile. "What do you wonder?"<br>"Plenty of things Granger. Plenty."  
>"Tell me," she urges.<br>"I've made so many mistakes I wouldn't even know where to start."  
>And then it dawns on him. This is a trap. He smirks at her. "Nice try Granger. I'm on to you."<br>She sighs softly, running her right hand through her left hair. She looks sad, disappointed. "Why can't you just tell me? I've already told you that I can have you out of here in no time-"  
>"I don't deserve to get out of here."<br>"Why not?" she asks, looking puzzled.  
>He sighs. "Because no matter how you look at it, whether I did those things or not, I'm guilty-"<br>"But if you didn't do them-"  
>"I took the Dark Mark Granger, isn't that proof enough?" he yells suddenly. He doesn't understand why she can't just leave it alone.<br>"No! Because I don't believe that you took it willingly. I don't believe that a boy of only 16 would've-could've given up his life like that. I don't believe that someone who truly believes in Voldemort would lower his wand. I don't believe that a true Death Eater would deny knowing that it was Harry and then practically help us escape. I don't believe that someone who couldn't even look his father or Voldemort in the face, is evil at all," she tells him truthfully.  
>He smirks. "What about letting the Death Eaters into Hogwarts? What about cursing Katie Bell, and poisoning Weasley? What about watching my Aunt torture you over and over again because I couldn't do a damn thing to stop it? Because I was too much of a coward to tell her to stop. Hmm? What about watching the Muggle Studies teacher get devoured by that disgusting snake? Or watching the other Death Eaters rape and torture and kill innocent muggles because they thought it was fucking funny?" he spits. He feels sick to his stomach just thinking about it.<br>She looks shocked for a moment. And then she looks…sad. Upset. Distraught. Like she hadn't realized until now just how much he had been through.  
>He looks away, crossing his arms over his chest. "I may not have asked for any of that, but I was still there Granger. I didn't participate but I still watched. I didn't take Dumbledore's offer like I should've. I'm just as much to blame-"<br>"No, you aren't," she insists strongly. "You were brainwashed. You were forced to honor someone who had no business being honored."  
>"It doesn't matter-"<br>"Yes it does."  
>"It matters to <em>you<em> Granger. It doesn't matter to anybody else. Nobody else cares. I'm a Death Eater and I always will be."  
>"Not if I have something to say about it," she points out.<br>"Granger, don't-"  
>Only then does he realize he's pacing around the room because only then does he realize just how close she is. She's standing nose to nose-although she's quite a bit shorter. His breath catches in his throat at the close proximity. He isn't used to human contact, not this sort anyway.<br>"Please let me help you Draco," she whispers.  
>"Why do you care so much?" he asks softly, desperately wanting to understand.<br>"Everyone deserves a second chance."  
>"Not everyone."<br>"The ones who are worthy do. You're worthy. I can have you out of here by Monday morning. Three days, Draco."  
>He nods, closing his eyes. She turns then, to gather her things but he's faster and his hand closes around her wrist. He pulls her back, pushing her gently so that her back is against the wall. "Can I kiss you?" he murmurs, feeling her warm breath on his face. He doesn't necessarily know where the question comes from; only that he's been thinking about it for weeks now.<br>"That happy are you?" she teases.  
>"It's more than that-" -her lips press themselves firmly against his. He's shocked at first, but adjusts quickly, burying his left hand in her hair while his right cups her face. "Perhaps you can save everyone after all," he murmurs against her lips.<p> 


End file.
